"Always do right. This will gratify some people, and astonish the rest." Mark Twain

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Mission Statement (and disclaimer)

* To inform, educate, inspire colleagues and general public by sharing my own experiences, observations, thoughts, and insights drawn from my life and career in medicine and surgery.

* To explore my life and surgical career, as my journey progresses.

* To pose questions, address controversies, frame debate and discussion about/around topics, events, and issues that touch medicine and surgery, and the physicians and surgeons, institutions, and people involved and affected.

This will mainly be framed in the context of personal essays, discussions, conversations, observations (albeit one-sided).

I speak only for myself, the thoughts and opinions are mine; if I quote or borrow from others, appropriate attribution will be made.The educational and other institutions, groups, and organizations I have been and continue to be involved with have not sanctioned or approved the content, my comments here should not and do not reflect their opinions or represent them in any way. Likewise, I do not deign to represent my peers and colleagues. With that said, I hope that I respect and honor them all here in this place.

Posts and the information shared should not be taken as medical or treatment advice; any concerns or problems should be discussed and evaluated with your own physician or health care provider.

Comments are welcome, but will be reviewed and approved before posting.

COVID-19

Spring is in the air. It is gradually awakening, even in this little corner of the Northeast, where it is historically slow to emerge. Signs of spring are all around. It’s in the dawn birdsong that doesn’t gently stir awake, but insists on bursting into a raucous celebration of the new day. It’s in the early-blooming flowers that infuse hints and patches of color into the drab grey-brown landscape of the fading winter. The daffodils are blooming now, and the forsythia too, in sunny bright yellow shades that dare you to try not to be happy. It is a typical coastal New England spring.

This spring feels different. There is a cloud shrouding this spring, heavier and more persistent than the fleeting clouds and fog of a typically capricious New England spring, with its March bluster and April showers. This is the cloud of the new SARS-CoV-2 coronavirus and its attendant illness COVID-19, spreading globally and around the country, even to this little corner of coastal New England. It has seemed colder, cloudier, and rainier this spring, probably because those are the days that reflect the mood. The sunny days seem like a betrayal, incongruous with this cloud of disruption, fear, pain and grief. This spring is not typical.